


The One You Feed

by Shad0w_V4rgr



Category: Wiedźmin | The Witcher (Video Game)
Genre: Blood and Violence, Drama, Eventual Romance, Explicit Language, F/M, Horror, Hurt/Comfort, Mystery, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-01-16
Updated: 2021-02-24
Packaged: 2021-02-27 08:01:52
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 7
Words: 20,213
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22283797
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Shad0w_V4rgr/pseuds/Shad0w_V4rgr
Summary: (A story set approximately four months before the events of The Witcher 3.)Mages are no longer safe in the ‘Free City’ of Novigrad. Witch Hunters are on the rise. While a dangerous new threat lurks in the forest south-west of the city.In her desperate bid to survive and aid her fellow mages, Triss Merigold must rely on the help of a Novigrad thug who harbors a deadly secret.
Relationships: Triss Merigold/Original Male Character(s)
Comments: 6
Kudos: 10





	1. Booze, Piss and Blood

The waves of the ocean crashed violently against the harbour side of the Silverton District. A storm had engulfed Novigrad. It was late evening and the usually crowded harbour had become desolate; save for a few ships that were docked. They swayed in the storm like a drunk leaving a tavern, after hours of drowning his sorrows.

The harbour side tavern, The Golden Sturgeon, was one such place where the dockhands and other less fortunate locals came to drink away their woes and coin. Or to hit each other hard enough that they’d forget their own names. Its reputation for violent behaviour attracted the most undesirable of patrons. Thugs, bandits, thieves, even pirates drank and brawled at the tavern regularly. 

Although the storm wreaked havoc outside, the tavern itself was eerily calm. People were engaged in quiet conversation, with the occasional cough or splutter here and there. The bard strummed lightly on his lute; his lack of enthusiasm further exaggerated the melancholy atmosphere of the inn. The barmaid breathed a sigh of contentment from behind the bar as she surveyed the tavern. A glass in one hand and cloth in the other. She knew better than most that a peaceful evening in this establishment was a rare blessing. One that never lasted long.

As if on cue, the front door swung open with the force of a gale. Those sat nearest the door silenced their conversation and turned their heads in unison. A hulking brute of a man stood in the open doorway; the rainstorm howling behind him. His boots squelched and the floorboards creaked as he lumbered in, reached for the wooden door and slammed it behind him. His ragged trousers and torn shirt were drenched from the rain, as if he had crawled out from the sea itself. They clung tightly to his colossal frame. A pair of angry blue eyes peered out from beneath dripping wet layers of unkempt black hair, that hung above his shoulders. He shook his body like a stray mongrel, ridding himself of excess water. 

The man lifted up his head to reveal a strong jawline adorned by a thick beard, and a deep but precise diagonal scar decorating his right cheek. He took in several whiffs of air and exhaled with a guttural sound. 

_Booze, piss and blood._ He thought to himself. A disgusting combination of smells that were all too familiar.

The locals shrank into their seats as he made his way towards the bar. A confident stride accompanied by heavy footsteps, leaving a trail of water drips behind. He sat down with a thud on a flimsy stool that creaked in pain under his weight. The barmaid, seemingly unfazed by the brutish man’s entrance, smiled at him. 

“Your usual, Valko?” She asked, already reaching for a bottle from under the counter.

Valko replied with a single nod as he searched his tattered and soggy trouser pockets for payment. Ten crowns were dropped on the bar in exchange for a bottle of vodka and glass. Valko wasted no time pouring his first drink; in silence and with concentration. He picked up the small glass, licked his lips, and downed the contents. He let out a throaty yet satisfied groan as the burn travelled down his throat. After pouring another glass full, Valko glanced over both of his shoulders to scour the tavern. It was crowded but painfully calm. Especially at such a late hour.

“Awful quiet in here tonight.” He remarked in a gruff voice, as he turned back to face the barmaid.

“Wasn’t earlier. Proper tavern brawl broke out just after midday. Some poor sod got his head smashed against the set of stairs behind ye. Brain dead for the rest of his miserable life I reckon, assuming he ain’t completely dead come morn.” 

Valko grunted after downing his second drink.

“Sounds like I missed out.” 

He looked genuinely disappointed. Although, the permanent frown on his face made him a difficult man to read.

“Ha! That makes a first. I’d place good money on betting that every ploughing night you’ve come in here you’ve gotten into a scrap.” 

“I don’t start them.”

“True, true, I’ll give you that. But you sure as hells end up finishing them.”

“Only thing I’ll be finishing tonight is this fucking bottle.”

The barmaid chuckled and moved away to serve another man who had timidly approached the bar. A safe distance from its most recent patron.

Valko busied himself with pouring another drink; his only plan for the night was getting drunk. In peace. Undisturbed. Such was his wish for every night he came to the Sturgeon. He stopped mid pour as his nose began to twitch uncomfortably. Someone was approaching his right side. He grimaced. The smell of booze, sweat and sex; with an overpowering stench of cheap perfume attempting to mask the three former scents. 

“Fancy buying me a drink handsome?” Said a sultry voice from the right.

Valko didn’t need to look to know who, or what, was standing beside him.

“No.” He reluctantly put down the bottle of vodka, harder than was necessary.

The woman moved into view as she leaned sideways on the bar. She tossed her dark, greasy hair and grinned flirtatiously, revealing a smile of rotten teeth and gums. Her eyes glided over the muscular body of her potential customer.

“How about some pleasant company?” She ran her finger delicately along one of the muscle lines of Valko’s forearm.

“Piss off.” He mumbled, glaring down at the sudden skin contact.

The woman, undeterred, placed her entire hand on his forearm and gave it a gentle squeeze.

“Come on handsome. Big fella like you must need-“

Before she could finish, Valko pulled his arm away from her touch and slammed a clenched fist down onto the bar top. The whore shrieked and leapt backwards, knocking the bottle of vodka over in the process. Valko stood up with force and kicked his stool away. He towered over the frightened woman.

**“Piss. Off.”**

This time she got the message, loud and clear; and scurried away without a second thought.

The barmaid casually finished serving the other gentleman and shook her head, holding back her amusement. 

“You certainly have a way with the ladies.” 

Valko looked down at his now empty bottle of vodka. With a frustrated sigh, he picked it up.

“For fuck sake...” he mumbled and threw the bottle against the nearest wall. “Fucking whores!” He bellowed, in the direction the woman had ran to.

A couple of people looked over at his outburst but thought twice about responding in any way.

“So much for a quiet night. Not to worry, I’ll clear that up...and get you another bottle.”

Several minutes later the barmaid returned to the bar; an unopened bottle of vodka in hand. Her short tempered regular appeared to be sulking, though his eyes lit up at the sight of more alcohol. No sooner was the bottle was placed on the bar, did Valko grab hold of it, mumbling and grunting. The barmaid offered him a clean glass but Valko shook his head to refuse.

“I’ll drink from the bottle. Ain’t letting go of this one, lest some other cunt knocks it over and wastes my coin.” He took a large swig. “I just want to drink in peace. Is that too damn much to ask for?” 

“Must be that friendly looking face of yours. All that positive energy you give off.” The barmaid’s sarcasm failed to amuse Valko but thankfully it also failed to irritate him.

\----

An hour had gone by and Valko had not moved from his seat. He sat in thoughtful silence, staring emotionlessly at the wall in front of him. Occasionally he glanced at the gradually emptying bottle he held tightly in his large hand. The tavern had also emptied out a considerable amount. The hour was late and there were few remaining drunks dotted about. One or two of them were slumped over their tables, knocked out cold. 

The barmaid cast her eyes to the only man sat at the bar. Feeling it was now an appropriate time to start a more private conversation.

“I’ve been meaning to ask ye. Thought it best to wait for the crowds to die down...”

“What is it Bea?” Valko replied, not lifting his gaze.

“How’d that job go?”

“What fucking job?”

“The one you were on about the last time you were here.” Bea moved closer, placed both hands on the bar and leaned in. "You know...for the King of Beggars.” She whispered.

Valko scoffed, shifted on his stool and scratched the hair on his chin.

“He ain’t no fucking king. Just a bald headed, self-proclaimed, idealistic prick who thinks he’s someone important.”

“Alright, so you don’t like him. Somehow that don’t surprise me one bit; but he can’t be all bad. He’s helping all those mages ain’t he?”

“He pays well. That’s all I give a shit about. Job was easy enough. I’ll go get the coin he owes me tomorrow.” Valko emptied the bottle of its remaining contents. He paused for a moment after the vodka hit his stomach. “And how the fuck would you know about the mages? That’s not exactly common knowledge.”

“I work in a tavern. I hear things. Especially in this tavern. You think the blokes who drink in here are common? Plenty of ‘em work for the King of Beggars. Or for one of the Big Four.” 

Valko shrugged off Bea’s response as if he’d already known.

“He’s got fucking loads of them mages hoarded away in the Putrid Grove. Offered ‘em safe haven...for a price. It’s a sorry fucking sight.” Valko pushed the empty bottle away. “They’re like cornered rats. Scared shitless and desperate, fighting among themselves for scraps of food and stinking of filth. How the mighty have fallen.”

Bea nodded slowly, taking the empty bottle from the bar.

“Well they’ve got good reason to be scared. Not too long ago they were living normal lives. Folk respected them for their talents. Went to them for aid. Now they’re being hunted down like dogs, tortured and burned alive in the streets. And the people they helped in the past are likely the ones who’re handing them over to the witch hunters.”

“Almost sounds like you feel sorry for them. I say let the fuckers burn. They’re getting exactly what they deserve.” 

The barmaid’s warm expression faded as Valko’s harsh words sank in. She took several steps away from the bar, leaned backwards against the wall and crossed her arms.

“I do feel sorry for them. After seeing a young girl burned alive with my own eyes...it’s downright awful. She was no older than I am.”

“Awful, yeah, but so what? Don’t see how it’s any concern of mine what happens to those magic-wielding bastards. They’ve had it easy for far too fucking long.”

“Suppose it ain’t your concern, or mine for that matter. But still, many who’re being killed are good folk. Genuine folk. They’ve done no harm to anyone.”

“Good folk...if you say so. Mores the pity when they’ll go up in flames then.”

It was clear by the troubled expression on her face that Bea was bothered by the topic at hand; and Valko’s disregard for the innocent lives being taken.

“Have you always been so heartless?” She said, temporarily forgetting her place. “With that attitude it’s no wonder why you’re always alone and no one likes you.”

Valko did not respond. He sat silent and still; the only noticeable change was his increasingly deep and precise breaths. Bea realised what she had said and how offensive it sounded. Not only was it unprofessional but she should have known by now. The man she was talking to was a loner who cared for nothing but himself. It was a waste of time getting agitated by his lack of compassion for others.

“Valko, I didn’t-“

She couldn’t tell if she’d angered the man or upset him. Or both. When Valko got to his feet, the barmaid braced herself for a verbal battering. Expecting inanimate objects to be thrown around and broken in the process. But to her surprise there was no outburst. No foul language. Not even eye contact. Valko simply made his way out of the Sturgeon in silence; back into the storm from which he’d come.

The crescent moon was his only guiding light home, and even that was poor due to the amount of rain falling. Valko’s house was not even a five-minute walk from the Sturgeon. It was situated on the docks, with his front door facing the water’s edge. He gave the door, that always jammed, a firm shove to force it open. Now inside his home, it somehow felt colder than the rain had felt outside. 

He chose not to light the fireplace, nor any candles. He moved in the darkness, finding his way upstairs by memory. At the top of the stairs were two doors. The door on the left opened into his modestly sized bedroom. A large bed in the far-left corner, a bedside table, a wardrobe and a desk with a cracked mirror on the wall above.

The moonlight shone through his small bedroom window and highlighted a single item. The reflective shine caught Valko’s eye. He walked over to the desk, taking the small, blood stained silver medallion into his palm. He clenched the medallion tightly within his fist, gritting his teeth as if he were in pain.

The barmaid was right. He was always alone. For good reason.

_It’s better this way._


	2. Fall From Grace

It was just after midday. The high winds and thunder from last night’s storm had passed. However, rain still poured down on the muddy streets of Novigrad. Triss had her hood pulled firmly over her head as she walked down Glory Lane. This wasn’t just for the sake of keeping her hair dry. She was a wanted woman in this city. Easily recognised. The hood provided her with some way to conceal her identity while in public. She had become accustomed to avoiding eye contact and keeping her head down as if in shame. Compared to months earlier, when she would walk with her head held high and a smile on her face. Courteously greeting strangers she passed by on the street.

How far she had fallen. Once a Temerian Royal Council advisor. Now a wanted fugitive. From a life of luxury to a life of poverty. This had not been her fault of course. A series of unfortunate events which had caused the structure of her idyllic lifestyle to come crashing down around her.

It had all started with King Foltest’s death.

Triss stopped at a large wooden gate. She had reached her destination. Paranoia made her glance around, to be sure she hadn’t been followed or wasn’t being watched. The only people nearby were two lovers walking hand in hand. Despite the rain, they both had blissful smiles on their faces. The pace at which they walked only further displayed that neither of them had a care in world. Triss turned away and sighed, before knocking on the locked gate.

All around there were constant reminders that she had lost everything dear. Her home. Her status. Her lover. Especially her lover. But with that particular loss, she had no one to blame but herself. 

It had been just over two months since Triss and Geralt had parted ways. After the events at Loc Muinne, Geralt had recovered his memory and took off in search of Yennefer. Triss had moved to Novigrad, the so called ‘Free City’, to set up shop. She had high hopes for a fresh start. Carrying with her the saying ‘out of sight, out of mind’ and hoping there was some truth to it.

Although their parting hadn’t been on particularly bad terms, she had pined for him. Mourned as if he had died. Secretly she still did. It felt as though the memories she treasured were from another lifetime. A life that hadn’t even been hers. Or maybe it was all a fantasy.

The small hatch at the top of the wooden door opened and a man’s stern face appeared. Upon seeing Triss his features softened. He hastily closed the hatch and proceeded to open the door.

“Ah Miss Merigold, looking beautiful as ever. Always a pleasure to see you.” He bowed his head.

Triss stepped through the doorway. She acknowledged the doorman with a half-hearted smile. Considering he complimented her every time she entered or leaved; she didn’t think it necessary to say ‘thank you’ anymore.

She made her way through the appropriately named Putrid Grove. Her destination was the King of Beggars. There was an urgent matter to discuss. Urgent for her at least. Several weeks ago, she was forced to flee from a home that she’d barely had time to live in. Radovid’s witch hunters had found her and she was lucky to have escaped with her life.

Thankfully Francis Bedlam, the King of Beggars, had taken pity on them. He had been the mages saving grace, but he hadn’t done it for free. He demanded 80% of their earnings, leaving them the bare minimum for food and other necessities. It made Triss realise that everybody wants something. People are only interested in helping if they can gain from it.

Following the usual courtesies, it was straight to the matter at hand. Triss needed a place to stay. Preferably a place that had a roof, four walls and the privacy of a closed door. A few of the mages forced into hiding had managed to find hosts; people who were willing to hide them from the witch hunters. Of course, this had not been for free either. The rest of the less fortunate mages were living in the slums of the Putrid Grove, amongst the beggars, thugs and other filth. It was less than ideal.

“I’ve told you before Sorceress. One of my boys will be more than happy to put you up. You need only say the word.” 

“And I’ve told you before, no thanks. I appreciate the offer, but I’d like to find a host outside of this slum.” Triss had absolutely no desire to live under the same roof as one of Bedlam’s thugs.

The King of Beggars frowned at her response. 

“You clearly haven’t been having much luck with that. And you’re hardly in a position to pick and choose.” 

“That’s because finding someone I can trust in this city is damned near impossible.”

“But it seems you’re having no trouble finding work.”

“I’m managing...somehow. But it’s only going to get worse. People are either afraid of dealing with us or they’re plotting to hand us over to the witch hunters.”

Bedlam paced his desk, his eyes not leaving Triss. 

“Perhaps you should consider another line of work.”

“What do you mean?” Triss asked, genuinely intrigued.

“You have other talents Miss Merigold. Not as a mage but as a woman.”

Triss’ intrigue turned to disgust as she realised what he was getting at. The way his beady eyes lingered on her breasts and nether regions made her skin crawl. 

“You’re not seriously suggesting that I should...should sell myself?!”

“Men would be willing to pay good coin. My men especially. I can assure you of that. Perhaps they would even allow you to lodge with them for free. It would solve two of your problems at once.”

The man’s smile was lecherous, Triss had to turn away.

_Disgusting..._ She thought, too repulsed to respond verbally. She would never stoop that low. The current silence, no matter how awkward, was preferable to continuing this conversation.

Suddenly the front door was flung open, so hard that it could easily have flown off its hinges. Triss jumped out of her skin. Although, she was somewhat relieved to not have to continue the conversation.

The King of Beggars also jumped but soon settled down when he saw who had entered. Valko had two sets of eyes on him as he lumbered into the room.

“Have you ever heard of knocking before entering?” Bedlam asked dryly.

Valko continued his heavy-footed approach. He stopped at the desk, that Bedlam was stood behind, and banged his fist down on it three times to imitate knocking. Bedlam shook his head. 

“Very funny. Now, mind telling me why you’ve barged in here?”

“Job’s done. I want my coin.” Valko said bluntly.

“Yes, I heard my little problem has disappeared.” Bedlam waved his hand dismissively. “But unless you failed to notice, I’m having a discussion with the lady. A discussion you’ve just interrupted.”

Valko eyed Triss, who was looking up at him with a doe-eyed expression. As thankful as she was for the interruption, the enormous man stood next to her was giving off a strange and dangerous aura.

“I noticed and I don’t care. Just give me my coin.”

“This is Triss Merigold. She’s a sorceress. Previously a member of King Foltest’s Council.” Bedlam began, ignoring Valko’s demand. “Miss Merigold, this is-”

“Valko. Let’s leave it at that.” He briefly addressed Triss before turning back to Bedlam. “Stop changing the damn subject Bedlam and give me what you owe me.” 

“Charming as always.” 

The King of Beggars moved away from his desk, thoughtfully observing his two guests. Valko was staring daggers at him while Triss stared with uncertainty at Valko. Bedlam grinned at the interesting opportunity that had presented itself.

“You’ve come at a most opportune moment Valko. Why Miss Merigold here was just telling me about the trouble she’s having finding a place to stay. She needs a host, someone to hide her from the witch hunters…Surely _you_ must have space in that house of yours for a sorceress in need.”

This snapped Triss out of her daze.

“Wait a minute, I just told you I have no intention of lodging with one of your men.” She said assertively.

“Lady, I am NOT one of his men.” Valko snapped, his angry expression now directed at Triss.

Bedlam chuckled.

“Now now, you do work for me Valko, so that means-“

“It means bollocks. I work for whoever pays good coin. I have no loyalty to you. If someone paid me enough to kill you, I’d sure as hell do it.”

Bedlam brushed off Valko’s threats. 

“Well there you have it Miss Merigold. He’s not one of my men.”

“Even so I don’t think...” Triss wasn’t quite sure how to finish her sentence.

“Moments ago, you were telling me the difficulty you were having finding trustworthy hosts. Now you’re turning down willing help?”

“When the fuck did I say I was willing? I’m no fucking charity service.” Valko interrupted.

“Of course. No one would expect you to do this out of the goodness of your heart Valko. You don’t have a heart.”

“Right on both counts. And I don’t want or need a bloody sorceress under my roof.”

“Even a sorceress who will pay you?” Bedlam quickly countered.

“Like hell would I let someone stay in my house for free.”

“So what exactly is the problem? I just said she’s going to pay you.” 

Valko growled like an animal in response, before pausing in thoughtful silence. Triss was also silent. Yet again, things seemed to be quickly spiralling in a direction that she did not want to go. 

“How much will she pay me?” Valko asked.

“Well now, that’s for the two of you to negotiate.”

The room fell silent again. Valko looked at Triss, and Triss back at Valko; both feeling indecisive. It was clear that neither of them liked this spontaneous idea. For two entirely different reasons. But Triss was desperate for a safe place to stay; her life literally depended on it. And Valko knew he would be a fool to turn down such easy coin, even with the added risk of housing a mage. It was an equally beneficial opportunity that neither of them should pass up on. Especially with the way things were going in this city.

“Fucking hell...” Valko paced back and forth, grunting and groaning.

The King of Beggars crossed his arms; pleased with the awkward situation he had caused. 

Triss watched the larger man’s pacing. It was making her nervous. Though she wasn’t sure which outcome worried her more; his refusal to be her host or his acceptance. 

“Alright.” Valko finally stopped in front of Triss. “You can stay with me.” He said in defeat.

Triss lifted her gaze to meet his and forced a smile. 

“Thank you. I won’t be any trouble.” She said meekly.

“That remains to be seen.” Valko retorted. 

Bedlam dropped a coin purse on his table.

“I’ll be in touch with more work. Now, mind waiting outside while we finish what you so rudely interrupted.”

“Well hurry up.” Valko snapped, glancing between Bedlam and Triss. “I’ve got shit to do.”

With that, he snatched the coin purse from the desk and made his way outside.

“I’m not certain I like this arrangement.” Triss said, waiting until after the door had closed.

“Miss Merigold don’t be so ungrateful. I’ve just done you a favour. You said so yourself that it’s near impossible to find trustworthy people in this city.”

“I’m not being ungrateful. He doesn’t strike me as being the trustworthy type. Hell, I don’t even know this man and now I’m expected to live with him?”

“Such are the times I’m afraid sorceress. Nothing is expected of you. It’s entirely your choice. If you don’t want him as your host then you need only say. You can continue to live and sleep in this ‘slum’ as you called it.” Bedlam gestured to a nearby window. “The fact remains that the man has a house with space for you to live. You won’t find another host so quickly.” 

Triss rubbed her temples in frustration. She didn’t like this arrangement or how quickly it had been decided, seemingly without her permission. As shallow as it may sound, she didn’t like the look of Valko. The first impression he had given had not been a good one. Whether or not he was one of Bedlam’s men, he looked like a ruffian. A brainless, violent thug. Men like that would only want one thing from a woman like her, and it wasn’t coin. However, what she liked even less was the fact that Bedlam was right. She’d had no luck on her own trying to find someone who was willing to offer her safe haven. The reason she had gone to him in the first place was for help in finding a host. And he had _just_ found her one. 

“He said he’s not one of yours. What can you tell me about him?” She asked, hoping to have her mind put at rest. 

“Everything I know about him I’ve found out from my contacts. Even that is not a lot. The man doesn’t give much away about his past or personal life.”

“That doesn’t sound shady at all.” Triss sighed. “So, what _do_ you know about him? I want to know everything you know, since I’m going to be living under the same roof.” She said, with resentment in her voice.

“Valko turned up in Novigrad about 6 months ago. No idea where he came from. If I had to take an educated guess, I’d say he was a drifter, likely a deserter from the war. The man looks as if he’s seen a lot of death.” Bedlam said gravely.

That last fact Triss could believe. She’d found Valko’s gaze to be unnervingly piercing; even though they had only briefly made eye contact. 

“He has a small house by the docks, works at said docks or as hired muscle. He’s a strong as a bear; got the temper of one too. He also likes to drink. A lot.”

“Fantastic…” Triss muttered.

“Just keep on his good side and stay out of his way. I’m sure the two of you will get along fine.” Bedlam grinned spitefully. 

Triss wondered just what the hell she’d gotten herself into.

\----

The walk to the harbour was long and awkward. Triss trailed behind Valko, walking quite literally in his colossal shadow. The further they walked the more her gut told her to turn around and run in the opposite direction. For all she knew he could be taking her to a back ally to kill her. Or worse. She shuddered at the thought. If worse came to worse she could defend herself with magic, she was a powerful sorceress after all. She hoped it wouldn’t come to that. 

People in the streets moved aside to avoid crossing paths with Valko. Some would stare in fear and awe as he walked by. Others averted their eyes and kept their heads down. Valko was unfazed; for him it was the norm to receive this sort of negative attention. He stood out from a crowd because of his sheer height and massive build. This, combined with his unfriendly appearance and aggressive demeanour made him an object of fear. A deterrent. Unapproachable, and someone to be avoided at all costs.

Triss found the behaviour of onlookers mildly amusing; but she could sympathize with them. The man she was following had, as Bedlam so rightly described him, the likeness of a bear. Both in size and temperament. If a bear would walk through the streets of a city, you’d do well to avoid it. 

Panic rose in Triss when she noticed a group of witch hunters ahead. Judging by the direction Valko was heading, Triss was going to have to walk straight passed them. Valko had noticed them too but did not falter from his course. Triss considered asking him if they could take a different path to his house; or at least stop for a moment until the witch hunters moved on. She thought better of it. Instead of speaking up, she made certain her hood was fully covering her head as they got closer to the enemy.

As the two of them walked by, Triss felt both relieved and amazed that even the witch hunters thought twice about standing in Valko’s way. They hadn’t paid any attention whatsoever to the sorceress who was right under their noses. 

Finally arriving at his front door, Valko proceeded to unlock it. When it jammed, he forced it open with an aggressive shove. Triss took a step back, concerned at his random outburst.

“It jams.” Valko said, feeling the need to explain his action.

He held the door open, gesturing inside and allowing Triss to enter first. A small display of chivalry. Triss cautiously made her way into the strange house. She felt uneasy, even more so when the door was shut abruptly behind her. She didn’t want to let on how nervous she felt and so glanced around at her new surroundings. The house, much to her surprise, was neat and tidy. Although there wasn’t much in the room that could be made a mess of. A fire pit, assumingly for cooking and warmth, and a table with three chairs. It looked as if only one of the chairs got any use, due to the lack of dust on it and drag marks on the floor beneath it.

When she had done a 180 of her surroundings, her eyes met with Valko’s. He was blocking the door; Triss’ only escape if he tried something. He was full on staring at her. His eyes left hers and began tracing over her body. Strangely, his gaze wasn’t at all lecherous, it was severe and concentrated. Like a predator sizing up a potential meal.

This intensified the awkwardness of their shared silence. Neither of them knew what to say. That was until Valko homed in on the sack Triss was holding.

“What’s in the bag?” He asked suspiciously.

“My belongings.” Triss replied defensively. 

She moved the bag to her midsection and gripped it protectively with both hands. She was almost readying herself for a fight. 

Her body language was giving away how uncomfortable she was. Thanks to his heightened sense of smell, Valko could sense her fear. In response, he tried to relax the tenseness of his muscles. His stance suggested he was about to attack her; it was no wonder the sorceress was on edge.

“Travel light, you mages.” He tried to sound casual, but it sounded more like a gibe.

“This is all I have left. I had to flee from my house and leave everything behind to escape the witch hunters.” Triss explained. 

Valko nodded. Conversation wasn’t his strong suit. 

“I’ll show you to your room.” He gestured Triss to follow him upstairs.

“My room?” Triss asked rhetorically. She hadn’t honestly expected to get an entire room to herself. 

When he reached the top step Valko slammed his fist on the door on the left, startling Triss who was stood on the step below him.

“THIS is my room. You’re not to go in here. Ever. Do you understand?” He said sternly.

“Yes, I understand.”

“Good.” Valko opened the door on the right. “You can stay in here.”

Triss peered through the open door, hesitant at first. She entered after noting the silent consent from her host. It was a small, tidy room, much like the rest of the house. It contained a single bed, a nightstand and a dressing table. It looked cosy and had the potential to make a decent bedroom. Triss found herself smiling. Her new living conditions were turning out to be better than she could have expected.

“This is...more than I ever could have hoped for.” Triss faced Valko, her smile still present. “I want to thank you again for-”

“Let me make something clear sorceress.” Valko cut her off. “I don’t want you here. I’m not looking to make friends. I don’t like or trust your kind.”

The colossal man moved forward, backing Triss further into the room until her back was against the windowsill. 

“You’ll pay me 100 crowns every week.” 

“That’s-”

“Not up for negotiation.” He said harshly. “You’ll pay me on time, stay the fuck out of my way and this arrangement with go smoothly for both of us.”

\----

For the remainder of the evening Triss stayed in her newly acquired bedroom. She was exhausted from an eventful day but found herself tossing and turning in bed.

How on earth was she going to scrape together 100 crowns a week? Bearing in mind she also had to pay tribute to The King of Beggars.

The front door below her bedroom slammed shut. Reminding her that money was the least of her worries right now. Her new host had just gotten home. Ranting and raving; he was drunk and loud. Very loud.

He wouldn’t bother her if she stayed in her room. Would he?

Amongst the endless array of profanity he was spewing, Triss could make out one clear sentence from his drunken ranting. 

_“And now I’ve got some sorceress BITCH under my roof!”_

Triss closed her eyes and pulled the covers up and over her chin, like a frightened child. She felt even more alone than she had done before. What little pride she had left stopped her from crying. Now more than ever, she wished Geralt was here.


	3. Close Encounters

One week had passed. With some careful planning, skillful execution and a small miracle; Triss had been able to retrieve some essentials from her old house in Hierarch Square. Primarily her megascope; along with several items of clothing and a small collection of books. All of which now resided in her new bedroom. It was comforting to be surrounded by some familiarity.

The tension between Triss and her host had not improved. Although, she felt confident that the man _wasn’t_ going force himself on her or beat her to death during a drunken rage. So far, he had not once bothered her or tried to enter her room uninvited; regardless of what sort of state he would return home in. Triss began to think she had judged him too harshly by his appearance. He was not friendly nor pleasant by any stretch of the imagination, but he did respect her privacy. 

In honesty, he had barely said more than ten words to her. Triss would have welcomed some casual conversation; a ‘hello’ every now and then. The man was impossible to talk to. Every time they had crossed paths and Triss attempted to speak, Valko would completely shut down; ignoring her or grunting as a response.

Valko’s routine was fairly consistent. Typically, he slept the entire morning and left the house during mid-afternoon. He’d return home as the sun was rising the following day; go to his room, sleep and repeat. Triss had no idea what he got up to during the night hours. Perhaps it was better she stay ignorant of it. 

On top of her tense living situation, Triss still had the worries of the witch hunters, the temple guard and now the responsibility of supporting other mages. All mages of the North were suffering persecution; mages of Novigrad were no exception. They were trapped in the city, being hunted down and needed someone to look to for guidance during these dark times. Triss was far from being the most powerful or experienced sorceress in the world; but here in Novigrad she was considered as such. That, and a danger to society, as her wanted posters portrayed. Triss felt obligated to help the mages. Even if it meant putting her own safety at risk. For at this moment in her life, what other purpose did she have? 

Two days ago, Triss received a letter that had been so hastily written it was almost illegible. The letter had been subtly handed to her by a passer-by in the street. It contained the pleas of a young woman. More specifically, a young sorceress who desperately needed help. The sorceress’ name was Ophelia. Ophelia had travelled to Novigrad with her lover, unaware of how dangerous the city had become for users of magic. No sooner had the two entered the city, did they have to flee from witch hunters who questioned them at the gates. They were currently in hiding. 

Triss had agreed and arranged to meet the sorceress tonight, under cover of dark, to discuss her options and ultimately escort her to safety. Situations like this were always difficult. It was risky enough to be setting up secret rendezvous with strangers; the possibility that this could be a trap set by the hunters was high. It would not be the first time that she had been set up. 

Triss approached her bedroom mirror. She gazed at her reflection, disappointed by what she saw. There was no joy in the eyes that gazed back at her, no life. It had been a long time since she had seen the woman in the mirror smiling. Longer still since she had seen another’s reflection stood beside hers.

A half-filled coin purse sat on her bedside table. She still hadn’t earned enough coin to pay Valko for her first week. 

Triss donned her hood and fastened it securely. Her priorities were clear. The coin she owed would have to wait. 

\----

Arranging to meet someone down a dark ally in the middle of the night wasn’t one of her best ideas. It was the perfect spot for an ambush. Triss approached the agreed upon location; a narrow, well-hidden passageway in The Bits. She could plainly see two individuals standing within the proximity of a burning torch. A man and a woman. This was either a very poorly planned ambush or, Ophelia had brought her lover along. Triss assumed the latter yet approached with caution.

“Ophelia?” She asked, in a hushed tone. 

Triss’ voice alerted the two. The man responded aggressively by drawing his sword. 

“Who the fuck are you?” He yelled, throwing himself between the woman and Triss.

“Feliks wait!” The woman cried out, grabbing hold of his arm and pulling him back. “Miss Merigold?!”

“Keep your voices down, both of you.” Triss removed her hood, revealing her unmistakable red hair.

“Oh, thank goodness…” Ophelia breathed a sigh of relief.

Feliks reluctantly sheathed his sword.

“Any louder and you’ll alert the entire district.” Triss said, re-covering her head. “You were supposed to come alone.” She looked suspiciously at the man.

“Sorry…” Ophelia lowered her voice to a whisper. “Feliks insisted he come with me, just in case this was a trap.” 

The young woman, with neck-length blonde hair and a youthful sparkle in her eye, was a novice sorceress at best. Her high-pitched voice, dainty frame and plump rosy cheeks confirmed how young she really was. A very beautiful girl; such was the norm with sorceresses. Beauty, however, would not save her from the burning pyre. If anything, it made her more of a target. She was inexperienced and had not fully grasped the reality of what would happen if she were to be captured. Triss knew she had to help the girl. She couldn’t bear the thought of another brilliant young mage being killed because of their magical talents. 

“You need to be more careful. Standing in a lit area where you might be seen? Shouting in the middle of the night? Perfect ways to get yourself killed. And _you_.” Triss clicked her fingers to get the attention of the young man. “You’re taking an awfully big risk here, Feliks. You can’t be so reckless. If you’re caught together-” 

“I’m well aware of the risks, Miss Merigold.” He spat arrogantly. “I’m not a mage, I have nothing to fear from those bastards.”

The young man, who’s hand was securely attached to that of his lover’s, was painfully average looking. Average height, wiry build, dark scruffy hair and stubble. His clothes, dirty and torn, had seen better days. He looked akin to a beggar; one with an attitude problem. They were an oddly matched couple.

“It doesn’t matter if you’re a mage or not. The hunters will torture and burn you alive all the same for aiding her if you’re caught together.”

Feliks squeezed the hand of his beloved.

“I don’t care.” He looked into Ophelia’s eyes. “I love her. I don’t want to lose her.”

Triss suddenly felt sick. Remembering how Geralt had said something similar to her not so long ago; just look how they ended up. 

“You two should really keep your heads covered while in the streets, even at night.” Triss advised, working to swiftly change the subject. “Where have you been hiding?” 

“We’ve been taking refuge in the sewers for a few weeks…” Ophelia said with shame. 

_That explains the strange smell,_ Triss thought. 

“The sewers are very dangerous.” 

“Not as dangerous as staying on the streets.” Feliks scoffed. “Easier for me to protect Ophelia from an army of drowners than it is to fight an army of armed men!”

“We were desperate, Miss Merigold. We had no other choice. No one would help us or take us in.” Ophelia began to raise her voice again. 

“Five witch hunters pounced on us as soon as we stepped foot into the city.” Feliks exaggerated. “Bombarding us with questions, and when they found out Ophelia was a sorceress-”

“They grabbed me. Tried to shackle me.” Ophelia clung to Feliks’ arm. “Feliks stopped them.”

“How did you stop them?” Triss asked. 

“I killed the bastards of course!” The young man bragged and tapped the hilt of his sword. “Then we legged it.”

Triss was sceptical. Feliks looked to be a physically fit and capable young man, but she couldn’t imagine him overpowering a group of trained witch hunters.

“You took on and _killed_ five men by yourself?” 

“Of course!” He grinned widely. “They were no match.”

That youthful arrogance was beginning to become irritating. His recklessness would end up getting him _and_ his lover killed.

A series of footsteps echoed down the alley, halting the conversation from going any further. Triss brought her finger to her lips. The three looked to the far end of the alleyway. At the sight of hunters, Triss pushed the couple back against a brick wall, out of the visibly lit area. She and the young couple stared wide-eyed and prayed in silence that the men would move on. With one hand on Ophelia’s shoulder, the other on Feliks’, Triss could feel Ophelia’s panicked heartbeat rising. It was strange how Feliks’ pulse felt so calm. 

The group of men gathered at the entrance to the passageway. They spoke loudly and laughed amongst themselves, swaying and struggling to stand upright. Likely that they had just left the tavern. The drunken men eventually moved on without incident, leaving the three fugitives sharing sighs of relief. Triss silently thanked whatever force was watching over her. 

“We need to get off the streets.” She whispered with urgency. 

The two lovers nodded in agreement and eagerly followed the sorceress’ lead.

\----

“Are you all clear on what’s expected of you? You’ll be safe here in the Grove, but you will have to pay tribute for your protection.” Triss explained. “Both of you.”

Triss had gained an audience with Bedlam, even at such a late hour. She introduced Ophelia and Feliks to the man. Bedlam and Feliks took an instant dislike to one another. While Ophelia was only just able to keep herself from tears as the reality of her situation dawned upon her. Triss wasn’t sure what outcome the young woman had expected. That she would be taken to safety and her worries would be over? Her worries were only just beginning. Now she would have to live in poverty, work to earn enough coin to pay for protection; all the while avoiding the temple guard and witch hunters. 

In many ways the young sorceress reminded Triss of herself years ago. A joyful, bright-eyed young girl who was indecisive and blissfully ignorant of hardships; of how cruel the world can be. She was driven by emotion and unable to keep a cool head during times of strife. 

“How will we ever manage…” Ophelia sulked as she slumped down onto a barrel. 

The tears she had been holding back now began to flow by the gallon. Feliks kneeled down in the mud, in front of his sorceress and lifted up her chin.

“Fear not Ophelia.” He smiled. “This isn’t what we wanted but I promise everything will be ok. I will work hard to earn enough coin for both of us. That way, you don’t have to leave the Grove and put yourself in danger.”

“Feliks you-”

“I will manage.” He cupped her face in his hands. “You know this.”

“How long will we have to live like this?” Ophelia placed her hands over her lover’s. “We came to Novigrad for a fresh start. It’s supposed to be a free city…Is there truly nowhere we can be safe and free?”

“Kovir.” Triss said, interrupting the tender moment. “My plan is to flee to Kovir. All of us. Together.” 

“Why Kovir?” Feliks questioned. 

“For starters there’s no war in Kovir. The kingdom has chosen to remain neutral. Best of all, there’s no oppression towards those who practice magic. As mages we would be safe there. We could all have a fresh start.” 

“Kovir is waaaay up North right? In the mountains. I’ve heard it’s bloody freezing during the winter months, unbearably so…” The young man mocked. 

Triss placed her hands on her hips.

“Being a bit cold during the winter certainly sounds better than being burned alive in this city. In Kovir we’d have our own homes, our own beds, with roaring fireplaces and hot meals.” Triss sighed dreamily. “Clean clothes and warm baths. Ugh, it all sounds too good to be true.”

“It certainly sounds better than the sewers.” Ophelia wiped her eyes and chuckled weakly. “Are you certain we’d be safe there?”

Triss gave a modest smile. She wanted to give the young sorceress hope. Hope was the only thing keeping any of them going.

“Yes. Safe and free to live as we see fit. Although at the moment it feels more like a pipe dream. We’ll need to save up _a lot_ of coin to be able to afford the journey.” 

“I have faith you’ll find a way to get us there. Right Feliks?” Ophelia’s smile grew as she nudged her partner.

“Oh yeah sure, you’ll figure it out. You’re the great sorceress, Triss Merigold!” Feliks jumped to his feet and threw his arms in the air in a whimsical manner. 

“Thanks.” Triss rolled her eyes. 

Ophelia giggled at her lover’s theatrics. 

“Jokes aside, thank you Miss Merigold. Living among beggars and thieves isn’t what me or Feliks expected when we came to Novigrad...We’re safe for now and that’s what matters. I honestly don’t know how we can repay you.”

“Take care of each other and keep yourselves alive. That’s all I ask for.” 

It was likely the three would meet again. For now, Triss bid the couple farewell and good luck. The accomplishment she felt from helping someone in need had died off rather quickly. Triss had retained her warm smile during the somewhat sickening display the lovers had been putting on. Inside she was screaming. Being in their presence had created a bout of jealousy. 

\----

The streets were empty, the night air cool and crisp. The moon, at its peak in the clear sky, was offering luminance. It would be full in just a few nights. The more superstitious of folk feared the sight of a full moon and the horrors it might bring. Triss had always found it rather beautiful; and romantic. Pushing the thoughts of her grim reality aside, Triss instead pictured herself with Geralt. A full moon and star filled sky was the perfect setting for two lovers to share an evening walk. One that would inevitably lead to a night of passion. Imagination took over, and her guard was let down for only a moment. Triss carelessly turned a corner without thinking and without caution. 

She was promptly brought back to reality as she walked directly into someone. 

“Oh, excuse me.” She apologized, startled by the sudden physical contact. 

The reality was a harsh one.

“Easy there sweetheart. You in a hurry?” 

It was the men from earlier. The group of witch hunters they had avoided. Triss’ mouth turned dry.

“No, I’m sorry I wasn’t paying attention to where I was going.” 

She tried to walk on, but another man stopped her.

“Bit late for you to be wandering the streets all alone.” He stated, his eyes wandering up and down her body. 

The rest of the group moved to form a half-circle around Triss.

“I’m on my way home.” She asserted. 

She needed to stay calm.

“You know sweetheart.” The commander of the group leaned forward to get a better look at her. “You look awfully familiar.” 

“You must be mistaken sir; I don’t know you.” Triss replied, backing away from the men.

The commander’s expression went from amused to serious when he had caught a full glimpse of her face. 

“No.” He gestured to his comrades. “But I know you.”

One of the men grabbed Triss by the arm to restrain her, while another tugged her hood off. 

“Get your hands off me!” 

Triss managed to pull her arm free of the man’s grasp but her identity had been revealed.

“Well fuck me! What ploughing luck this is!” The commander chuckled. “Triss Merigold. All alone. With nowhere to hide.”

The rest of the men joined in with their commander’s laughter. 

“We’ve been looking for you, bitch. You got away from us the first time.” One said as he drew his sword. “This time you won’t be so lucky.” 

“Alright boys get those dimeritium shackles on her.” The commander’s laughter died down. “Can’t have her using any of that foul witchcraft against us.” 

“Yeah we know you’re fond of fire, Merigold.” One of the hunters brought forth a pair of shackles.

“If she’s that fond of it perhaps she’ll enjoy being burned at the stake.”

The hunter’s roared with laughter as they closed in; swords drawn and shackles at the ready. 

The mere sight of the dimeritium made Triss’ stomach turn. As if her magic was already being drained. Fight or flight kicked in. She chose the latter. Had it been a group of common thugs she could have fried them in a matter of seconds. These hunters were perfectly equipped and prepared for subduing magic from even the strongest of users. 

Acting calmly as if she were accepting her fate, Triss forced her way through the wall of men, catching them off guard. She began running in the opposite direction of the docks. She couldn’t risk leading them back to her hideout; she had to try to lose them first. 

Frantically, she ran through the empty streets, the clipping of her boot heels on the stone paths echoed in swift succession. She twisted and turned around as many corners as possible; making every and any attempt to lose her pursuers. The sounds of heavy footsteps and angry voices bounced off the walls around her. While her heart was beating at a rate she did not think possible, she cursed herself for losing focus and having such idle fantasies. 

Triss endured the chase until she could no longer hear footsteps behind her, only distant shouts. Then, the sound of waves crashing against stone. She had ended up near the docks, without the intention of doing so. They would be her saving grace. The safety of her hideout awaited. A quick glance behind confirmed that she had lost the hunters, but they weren’t far off. The distant shouts were gradually getting louder. 

Valko’s front door was in sight. Safety, mere seconds away. Fumbling with her key, Triss jabbed it into the lock, turned it and-

Nothing. 

“Shit!” Triss slammed her fists onto the wooden door. 

It was jammed shut.

“No no no, come on!”

She pushed against the door with all of her remaining energy, but it would not budge. 

“Don’t do this to me, not now!”

The thought of using magic to destroy the door briefly crossed her frantic mind. That would easily give away her position and defeat the objective. Instead, she resorted to banging her fists on the door like a mad woman, which was no more subtle than her first idea. She continuously glanced over her shoulder; in hope she would not see any sign of her pursuers. 

When the door was finally pulled open Triss, who by this point was near hysteria, stumbled through the doorway. She would have fell directly into Valko had he not grabbed her by the shoulder. 

“What the fuck sorceress?” Valko growled, one hand holding the door open, the other firmly on Triss’ shoulder.

“Close the door!” The sorceress pushed his hand away and darted further into the house. “Please!” She pleaded.

Valko closed the door and locked it in a calm manner, though his eyes betrayed discontent.

Triss was wheezing from lack of breath. The pain in her hands, from hammering on the door so hard, was becoming noticeable.

Valko did not spare her a moment, despite the state she was in.

“I’ll ask again. What the _fuck_ is going on?”

Triss supported herself against the table, trying to steady her breathing.

“I’ve just had to run for my life, that’s what’s going on.” 

There was a near empty bottle of vodka on the table, which she was tempted to finish off herself. 

“So? Why were you making all that fucking noise?”

Triss stared in disbelief at the man’s lack of compassion. 

“The door jammed, and I couldn’t get in!” She gasped for breath. “I encountered a group of hunters on my way back. They recognised me and I had to run!” 

“You lead them here?!” Valko yelled, without sympathy. 

“No…No! I lost them before I reached the docks. Surprising they didn’t find me again considering your damn door wouldn’t open!” Triss yelled back at him, still rushing from adrenaline.

“So much for not causing any problems. You’ve been here a week and you’re already leading trouble to my fucking door.” Valko moved closer, pointing his finger accusingly. 

“Where else am I supposed to go?! What else am I supposed to do?!” She cried out in vain. “I should be able to feel safe here! _You’re_ supposed to hide me from the witch hunters, that was the deal!”

“The deal was, you pay me and you can hide here. Hiding here, in MY house is exactly what you’ve been doing. But I’m yet to see a single piece of gold from you sorceress.” Valko’s voice got louder with each sentence. 

Triss couldn’t believe what she was hearing. She’d been chased half way through the city, on the brink of capture and all he cared about was his coin.

“I’m _trying!_ I’m doing the best I can here! Do you have any idea how difficult it-”

“YOU’RE NOT TRYING HARD ENOUGH!” Valko roared, as he swiped at the wooden table, hurling it against the wall. 

Triss had moved from the path of his fury just in time. She yelped and flinched as the table shattered into splinters from the force it had hit the wall. There was an inhuman rage in the man’s eyes that sent a chill down her spine. His breathing had become low and hoarse, like a growling beast. 

Valko had a short enough fuse when he was sober, the alcohol he’d clearly been drinking had just made him explode. His outburst had ended any further comebacks Triss might have had lined up. She hadn’t expected him to lash out. She hadn’t wanted to argue in the first place. 

“I’m sorry.” She sounded hurt.

She could have been hurt; had she not moved in time. That table could easily have been her. 

Valko took a deep breath and exhaled. 

“I’d get more gold out of you if I dragged you out of my house, kicking and screaming, straight to the temple guard!” 

At this point she did not know whether that was an idle threat or him being serious.

“I’ll get you the coin.” She made eye contact, hoping her sincerity would pacify him. “I promise.” 

His eyes lacked regret and sympathy. They lacked all signs of humanity.

“Just get out of my sight sorceress.”

Triss complied, sullen and shaken. She took the stairs to her room without uttering another word.

From her window she spotted the witch hunters who had been pursuing her.

_Am I truly any safer in here than I am out there?_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to everyone reading. I really appreciate you taking the time to do so and hope you are enjoying the story so far :)  
> I do have a fair bit planned out for this story and will update whenever I have the time.


	4. Cry Wolf

The war between Redania and Nilfgaard was ravaging the land. Cities were falling, villages were being desecrated and countless people were dying. Lives were being ruined, one way or another. 

Although the war had not reached Novigrad directly, ripples of the carnage could still be felt in the city. People were scared and desperate; coin and jobs were in high demand. Honest work was hard to come by. However, there was no shortage of work of a bloodier nature, for those who did not mind getting their hands dirty. War created problems; problems bred monsters of many sorts. Killing these monsters earned good coin, be them man or beast.

One of many notice boards in the city was situated on the docks, outside the Golden Sturgeon. Needless to say, this notice board often held jobs of a darker disposition. Usually it was surrounded by burly dockhands, cut-throats, sell-swords and vagrants. Today only one man stood there.

Valko tore a piece of paper from the notice board, as if the very sight of it had agitated him. In truth, it had. He narrowed his eyes as he read it, shaking his head to display his irritation.

_‘Eye-witness testimony has confirmed that **Triss Merigold of Maribor** , known as **The 14th of The Hill** , a member of the infamous **Lodge of Sorceresses** , is currently resident in our fair city. Anyone in possession of information about her place of hiding, plans or accomplices is obligated by law, both divine and human, to report to the nearest outpost of the Temple Guard at once. And whoever helps the witch by giving her food or shelter shall burn alongside her.”_

“That damned sorceress...” Valko grumbled to himself. “More trouble than she’s worth.”

His animosity towards people was evident. Sorceresses, he detested most of all. Women so full of vanity and arrogance that it was surprising they didn’t burst. Their unnatural beauty was a lie; a façade to hide the ugliness within. They looked down on everyone; treated average folk as if they were of no more importance than the dirt beneath their boots.

Triss hadn’t shown any of these qualities, as of yet. Their brief argument from the other night had ended when Valko’s temper flared-up to a violent level. He’d frightened her. He didn’t care. His opinion was that she deserved it, solely because she was a sorceress.

He crumpled up the note and shoved it into his pocket. He wasn’t here to get irritated thinking about her. He cast his eyes to the board once again. The only note of interest was pinned to the very bottom. It was partially covered by two other pieces of paper, easy to overlook. One word and one word alone caught Valko’s eye. 

He tore the note from the board. 

_‘Brave and able-bodied swordsmen or hunters needed!_

_Folk are being attacked and killed in the forest west of Farcorners. A large pack of wolves have been spotted in the area. We believe them to be the culprit. Willing to pay a full coin purse to anyone who helps us kill the beasts!_

_Ask for Hod or Hugo in Farcorners.’_

Valko brought the piece of paper up to his nostrils and inhaled. He grimaced. The scent was vile; however, he would not need to ask anyone where to find the man who posted the bounty. 

\----

Crossing the bridge from Novigrad to Farcorners, leaving the confines of the city walls, was like stepping from one world and into another. Farcorners may have been little more than farmland and non-human communities but there was something picturesque about the district and its surrounding areas. Quaint little huts housed the earnest folk who worked the bountiful fields. The scent of meadows brimming with wildflowers purified the decaying stink of the city. Lush woodlands that one could spend hours wandering through lay to the west and south. The sun always seemed to shine that little bit brighter here compared to inside Novigrad.

Valko spent a great deal of time in the district, especially during night hours. He admired and adored the scenery, although he would never admit this. Being here filled him with a sense of peace that no amount of vodka could ever provide.

Following the scent from the bounty note lead Valko to one of many cottages in proximity of the farmlands and animal pens. Outside the cottage, a disturbing scene was playing out; one that was unfortunately common. Valko looked on while a middle-aged man delivered continuous punches to another individual whom he had held down in the dirt. The man was bald and fat; his gut bulged over his trousers and his neck was non-existent. Judging from the stench of stale piss and sweat radiating from him, this was either Hod or Hugo. His victim, a small elven boy who looked to be no older than ten. He was bloodied, bruised and not putting up much of a fight. 

Many non-humans lived within this district. They easily outnumbered the human residents, but that did not make them any less of a target for prejudice and violence. 

“Hod or Hugo?” Valko asked, making his presence known.

“It’s Hod.” The man drew back his fist, delivering a harsh blow to the boy’s face. “And what the bleeding hells do you want? Can’t you see I’m busy?”

Valko stepped closer, irked. 

“You posted a bounty.”

The man tutted and stood up, dragging the elf up by his shirt collar.

“Oh, aye the boun-” He choked. “Sweet Meliteles tits, you’re a big bastard! Where did you come from?!”

“Been stood here for a while.” Valko clenched and unclenched his fists. “You were too fucking _busy_ to notice.”

“Aye busy is right, gotta show these pointy ears who’s in charge.” Hod threw the elf to the ground, giving him a parting kick up the backside. “Get outta here you…”

The boy scampered off, likely in tears. His attacker puffed out his chest and gave a nod of approval.

“Beating up a child. Brave feat.” Valko said, wholly unimpressed.

The fat man’s satisfaction died down after that remark.

“Bah! That little shit deserves it, he keeps stealing grain from the farm. Caught him running off with one of our chickens last week. Thieving little bastard.” Hod spat on the ground. “I keep threatening to gather the lads and go plough his pretty mother. Might make good on that threat later on if you-”

Valko growled and shoved the bounty note into Hod’s chest with force. The man wheezed and stumbled backwards.

“Not interested in raping women.” 

“Alright alright, the bounty, relax...so you a hunter or a sell sword? I’d almost given up on getting a professional’s help with this.” Hod scratched his greasy bald head. “Where’s your sword? And how’d you manage to find me?” 

“I don’t need a sword to kill.” Valko said dryly. “I followed your disgusting stench, lead me right here.”

Hod frowned but reconsidered any verbal retaliation. 

“You didn’t strike me as a man with a sense of humour.” He forced a chuckle.

“I’m not a man with a sense of humour, nor a man with patience. So cut the small talk and get to the fucking point.”

Hod hastily looked down at the note in his hand.

“I posted this bounty a few weeks ago. That’s when the killings started. The local huntsman found the first body in the woods. We all thought nothing of it. Just a poor sod who ventured too far in and got killed by wolves, but…” Hod took a breath. “Me and the lads been finding fresh bodies ever since. Lost count of how many. We found most of them on the edge of the trees, some of them in the fields, some in the village itself. Like they were running _from_ the forest. Some with claw and fang wounds, others shredded up like minced meat.” 

“You think its wolves.” Valko scoffed.

“I’m certain its wolves. At first, we thought it was those scoia’tael savages killing us human folk. Thing is, elves don’t tear up bodies with claws and partially eat them.”

“If it were wolves doing the killing there’d be no fucking bodies left.” Valko said without doubt. 

Hod shrugged.

“If not wolves then what? A few folks round here have seen a large pack, venturing closer and closer to our homes. _And_ I’ve seen them myself. Lingering on the edges of the trees whilst I’m working in the fields close to sundown. Too damned close for my liking.”

Valko moved away from Hod to set his eyes on the edge of the forest. Also, to get away from his foul body odour. 

“It isn’t the wolves. You should leave them be.” He advised.

“Leave them be? Are you mad? It’s only a matter of time before they start attacking people out here in the open. They need to be dealt with.”

“Quick to blame and too afraid to deal with the problem yourselves.”

“Afraid? Nay. They bleed like the rest of us. I’m not stupid though. I won’t go into the forest alone. Those beasts are cunning.”

“One should never underestimate a beast.” Valko grunted in temporary agreement.

“The huntsman laid traps and such, then went and got himself killed. So, me plan was to get a group of strong lads, hire a professional for back-up, then go into that forest and cut the beasts down.”

“Into their territory…” 

“What you say now?” Hod asked, having not heard Valko’s words clearly. His interest quickly switched to another “Ah, there you are. Right on time for once!” 

Another man, whom Hod seemed to be acquainted with, approached carrying a heavy sack of grain. The man’s face and bald head shared a likeness to Hod’s, the difference being that he was as skinny as a rake. He appeared dopey-eyed and rather sheepish.

“This here’s me brother, Hugo. We work the fields together.” Hod grabbed his brother by the shoulder and pulled him forward. “Hugo this is…uh…what’s your name stranger?”

“Valko.” 

Hugo looked wearily at the imposing man, jaw ajar and drool on his chin.

“Quit your staring Hugo! Valko’s here to help us take care of the wolves.” Hod announced, arms now crossed over his chest. “Gots to go gather up some of the other lads. Figure we’ll set out after sundown. Wolves are more active during the night.”

“B-b-but Hod.” Hugo stuttered. “It’s a full moon tonight.” 

“Yeah? What of it?” Hod’s expression gradually changed from curious to knowing. “Oh fuck sakes Hugo don’t start on this again.”

“You know we shouldn’t go into the woods at night Hod…e-e-especially when the moon is full.”

“You superstitious idiot. I’ve told ye hundred times, there ain’t no such thing as werewolves.”

“I’ve heard it! The howling!” Hugo cried out.

“Its wolves Hugo!” Hod slapped his brother over the back of his head. “Just wolves. They howl, see?”

“I’ve seen it! A giant fur-covered b-b-beast! Tall as a house!” Hugo proclaimed, his arms flailing about. “Teeth like knives, claws like daggers! Watching us from the trees at night with those d-d-devil eyes.” 

Hod rolled his own eyes.

“If there is a damned werewolf, we’ll bind him in silver chains and cut ‘im down like the dog he is. There’ll be seven of us and one of him.”

Peasant folk where well known to be superstitious. They made up all sorts of stories out of their fear of the unknown. Most of their ramblings were nonsense. Simple misunderstandings or mis-sightings that had been blown completely out of proportion. This ‘werewolf’ could well have been an average brown bear. 

Hugo was your typical peasant, and a classic example of the village idiot. He was, however, right to be afraid of the forest. Then there were people like Hod. Ignorant, foolishly brave and with no real notion of their own fragile mortality. This angered Valko greatly, for he knew better than most that monsters were very real. They lurked in the shadows, where men dared not tread. Sometimes they walked among men, undetected and deceitful. Clever hunters, waiting for the right time to strike.

“Not afeared of monsters?” Valko asked, somewhat threateningly. 

“No more than I am of beasts.” Hod laughed. “If monsters actually exist it’s as I said, they bleed like the rest of us.”

Hugo cautiously approached Valko, looking up at him like a timid child. “A-a-are you afeared of monsters, master?”

Valko felt his heart pulsate, though not out of fear. A simple question, yet it carried more weight than either of the brothers realised. 

“I fear nothing.” He replied, his tone heavy and earnest. 

“See that’s what I figured.” Hod chuckled mockingly. “Don’t reckon we’ll have anything to fear from the forest with you on our side. Be it beast or monster awaiting us.”

\----

Six men traipsed into the forest, armed with swords, axes, crossbows and torches. Hod haughtily took the lead, with an anxious Hugo at his side. Valko deliberately lagged behind the six, treading softly despite his cumbersome size. He was no novice hunter; and he knew this forest well. He took in the array of scents that were carrying through the trees. The most prominent scent was that of fear. The men he followed, stout and gutsy as they may have appeared, were unsettled by the obscurity of the dark woods. They were loud and clumsy, inexperienced hunters. If there were wolves or any other forest beast lurking, they were fully aware of the men’s presence.

During the day these woods were vibrantly coloured and portrayed serenity. Golden rays of sunlight would pour through the leaves and the air was rich with birdsong. With the falling of the sun and fading of the daylight, the forest lost its magic. At night it offered no sense of safety. The torches that the peasants carried with them offered little comfort and protection from the darkness enclosing. 

“Alright boys stop here for a moment, compose yourselves.” Hod ordered, as if he were leading a band of soldiers.

Valko maintained his distance from the men, but their conversations were no secret from him. His keen sense of hearing allowed him to listen in on their concerns and complaints while they gathered in a huddle. 

Through a breach in leaves of the treetops, the full moon loomed with ominous intent. Nestled in hazy cloud, it surveyed the night; a white specter cloaked in mist. Valko gazed expectantly upwards; his eyes fixated and his mouth agape. The allure of the moon was potent tonight. He could feel the strength of its pull.

A single howl pierced the stillness of the forest. The hairs on the back of Valko’s neck stood on end. 

“I hear you…” He whispered. 

“Werewolves!” Hugo shrieked, startling a flock of birds that had been resting in the trees.

The men were anxious before, now they were complete nervous wrecks. 

“For the love of the bleedin’ Gods Hugo, shut your trap.” Hod snapped, slapping his brother over the back of the head as he walked by and towards Valko. “No signs of them here but it sounds like the beasts are close.” 

Valko remained silent.

“Admiring the full moon are ye?” 

Hod’s mockery fell on deaf ears. 

“It is beautiful tonight.” Valko expressed with sincerity. There was a sombreness to his tone. 

“Careful there, me idiot brother might think you’re a werewolf.” The fat man chuckled. “We should move on, follow the howling. The men are anxious but we’ll get the beasts yet.” 

Hod re-joined the group. His own anxiety growing after he realised, they were suddenly one man less. 

“Fuck. Where the blazes is Hugo?” 

From the depths of the forest came the frightened shriek of a man, followed by the yowl of an unidentified creature. 

“That sounded like me brother!” Hod exclaimed. “Come on men!”

Valko lingered while the peasants fled blindly into the trees in the direction of Hugo’s cry. Blood had already been spilled. The smell of it incited his anger; it was not human blood. He acknowledged the full moon once more before pursuing them.

A small clearing within the depths of the forest revealed the lost man. Hugo had fallen to the ground but with not a scratch on him. Beside him lay an injured wolf, whose fur was pure as fresh fallen snow. It snarled, struggling for freedom from the trap that had pierced its hind leg.

The group of peasants came to a halt at the sight of the wolf. Hod wasted no time in rushing to his brother.

“Gods damn it Hugo, are you alright?” His concern shifted to anger as he dragged his brother to his feet. “What the hell happened?! Why did you run off?!”

Hugo was a stuttering mess and offered only an array of nonsensical words to explain himself.

“Wolf’s caught in a trap.” One of the peasants piped up, giving the group confidence to advance.

“A white wolf. Extremely rare.” Another commented. 

“Thought they could only be found in Skellige.”

“Clever bitch must have been stalking us the entire time. Went after Hugo when he ran off on his own but got herself caught in one of the huntsman’s traps.” The she-wolf bore her fangs as Hod approached. “Not _that_ clever though since you got yourself caught. That’s what you get for trying to kill me brother.”

Hod gave a spiteful kick to the trap and the she-wolf yowled in pain.

“Her pelt will be worth a small fortune.” 

The peasants nodded in agreement. Their fear waned at the promise of coin.

“Hold the bitch down. I’ll finish her off.” Hod smirked as he drew his sword. “Can’t say this is going to be painless.”

After several attempts and many limbs almost lost, the men managed to overpower the wolf. Two peasants held her head down in the dirt allowing Hod to deal a killing blow.

Valko’s emergence from the gloom of the trees had gone unnoticed. 

“Leave her.” He warned. He could feel this encounter leaning towards one of two conclusions. 

Hod delayed the strike of his blade.

“You what?” He chuffed. 

“Leave. Her.” Valko warned again. A rumble in his throat while blood boiled in his veins.

“Oi Hod, your hired muscle has lost his mind somewhere back there in the woods.”

The men laughed in unison at the banter, unaware of the true danger they were in. What little patience Valko had was at its end. The beast within him wanted out. 

“I SAID LEAVE HER!” He surged towards the men, snarling and baring his teeth.

The peasants retreated from the wolf, only Hod foolishly stood his ground.

“What the fuck is your problem, eh? The bounty was to help kill the damned wolves not save them.” He cruelly pushed his boot down onto the trap, causing more pain to the wolf. 

Valko effortlessly shoved Hod away, knocking him off his feet. 

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?!”

“I never said I came for the bounty.” Valko crouched down beside the wolf and delicately pried open the steel trap with his bare hands. “The wolves aren’t to blame for the killings.” He comforted the wounded animal with tender strokes. 

“It’s him! He’s the one who’s been killing folk!” A crossbow wielding man claimed. 

Like sheep following a shepherd, the peasants were easily convinced, and all drew their weapons.

“You bastard. You lured us out here to kill us too!” Another accused.

It seemed only right of them to jump to conclusions and point the blame.

“Walk away.” Valko stood protectively in front of the wolf. “Leave the wolves territory and you’ll leave with your lives.”

“Not a chance in hell. That wolf bitch’s hide is ours. And you…” Hod nodded to his men, each one of them inching closer. “You’ll pay for murdering all those folks. You might be a big bastard, but you can’t take all of us unarmed!”

The bushes surrounding the clearing began to rustle and murmur.

“That’s the thing about wolves...” Valko droned. “They never hunt alone.”

Beams of moonlight broke through the leaves, granting the colossal man a menacing aura. 

“You take on one wolf. You take on the pack.”

“I’ve had enough of this bullshit. Go on boys, get the freak!”

With misguided bravery, a single man charged at Valko, screaming wildly and brandishing his axe. At that instant, a grey wolf darted out from the bushes, leaping to Valko’s defence. The wolf clashed with the axe-wielding man, pinning him to the ground and delivering a vicious bite to the neck. The man wailed in agony as blood spurted from his mouth and throat.

“Fuck!” A second cried, rushing to help his comrade. “Get off of him you filthy beast!” He swung his sword valiantly, striking the wolf on its back. 

The wolf recoiled. Valko moved swiftly, grabbing hold of the assailant’s arm in motion of its next swing. The strength of Valko’s vice-like grip surged as he lifted the man off his feet, crushing the bones of his hand. The man squealed like a pig being slaughtered as his fingers, like pulpy clay, were moulded around the hilt of his sword. Valko flung the man aside, the force of his body hitting a tree shattered his spine and crushed his rib cage. 

However, it was Valko who howled out in pain. His throat dry and hoarse, he fell to his knees. His manic eyes met with the face of the moon who had been provoking him since the disappearance of the sun. No longer could he control his rage, nor resist the primal call of his blood. The moon beckoned, and the wolf obeyed. Thick black fur ruptured from Valko’s skin as he shredded through his shirt; his fingernails sculpting into claws. His limbs contorted and extended; muscles swelled to thrice their original size. He trembled and writhed during the rebirth; a twisted state of euphoria and agony. 

“W-w-werewolf!” Hugo screamed, cowering behind the surviving peasants.

The beast rose to its hind legs in terrifying majesty, a monstrous combination of man and wolf, rivaling the height of two men. The transformation had completed in mere seconds. Only his eyes were unchanged. Piercing blue eyes that bore into the soul of his prey. 

“Well what the fuck are you waiting for?! Kill that fucking monster!” Hod blared, unwavering. 

The werewolf let out an extended roar, his ferocity on full display. The three remaining men, Hugo included, scattered into the trees like insects. Hod had no chance to curse their cowardice. The werewolf lunged towards him with unnatural speed. A single slash from his paw tore the fat man’s arm off, along with a large chunk of his torso. The sword still clasped in the hand that fell to the ground. 

Two more wolves had emerged. They stood beside Valko, awaiting his command. The werewolf snarled in Hod’s direction; the wolves complied. Swiftly, they attacked the defenseless man, tearing him to bloody pieces on the forest floor as he squirmed and wailed in vain. 

Satisfied with their kill, the wolves took to the chase, sprinting through the forest. Valko’s blood ran hot with the thrill of the hunt, pursuing his prey with primal instinct; the inevitability of sating his blood-lust.

A melody of blood curdling screams rang through the air, one after another. A monstrous howl ended the serenade.

Dead silence.


	5. Breaking The Ice

Valko awoke with blood on his hands. The taste of a fresh kill lingered in his mouth. His clothes had been ripped into shreds. He remembered everything that had happened, vividly, and was no stranger to this sensation. He felt absolutely no guilt and no remorse for what he had done. Lay on the forest floor, Valko took comfort amongst his sleeping lupine kin. The white wolf he had saved from the hunter’s trap lay closest to him. The other wolves had formed a protective barrier around them. The full moon had vanished from the sky, taking with it the temptation of succumbing to primal instinct. Although the sky was still dark, it would not be long before dawn arrived. Valko needed to get back home before first light. Entering the city completely nude and covered in blood was a sure-fire way to draw unwanted attention. He would have to find some form of clothing and wash away his sins before returning to civilization. 

Crouched down at the edge of a cold stream, Valko stared at the reflection on the water’s surface. The face that stared back, stained with blood and void of expression, scarcely resembled a man. He ran his finger over the lengthy scar that burdened his cheek. Still as deep and hideous as the day he received it. An unwanted parting gift, and constant reminder of what he had lost. Valko plunged his hands into the water, distorting his reflection and ridding himself of the grief it brought. 

\----

Navigating streets at night and avoiding human contact had become less of a task and more of an art over the many years of his life. Novigrad had not been Valko’s first residence amongst humans. He knew how to disappear from sight if he wanted to. He was a hunter after all, and his cover was the night. 

After forcing open the door to his house, Valko’s ice-cold skin was hit with an unexpected warmth. It stunned him. Stopped him in motion. A sensation he had not felt for over a decade. Living alone meant always coming home to a cold and unwelcoming house. In this moment the house was warm and inviting. The fire had been lit. Valko felt almost obliged to close the door as gently as possible, so not to ruin the oddly calming atmosphere.

Triss was sat on a chair that she had positioned by the fireplace. She appeared to be sulking, cradling a bottle in her lap. It was unlike her to be awake at this hour. The way the flames danced and crackled on the logs gave a gentle, ambient glow to the room. And to Triss herself. Just like a moth to the flame, Valko was momentarily captivated by her beauty. A startling realisation of how bewitching the sorceress truly was. 

Something stirred in him; a flicker of a memory. He temporarily mistook Triss for another. Someone he knew long ago, sitting in a house he had once lived in, waiting for him to come home. He hadn’t realised the intensity of his daze until Triss’ voice tore him from the memory.

“Figured your other chairs should get some use.” She hadn’t faced him yet, but when she did her gloomy expression changed.

Valko was shirtless, with a large sheet of cloth wrapped around his waist. 

“What happened to your clothes?” Triss eventually asked, after giving every inch of his torso a visual inspection.

Valko didn’t respond.

“Relax.” Triss held up the bottle she had been drinking from. “It’s not your vodka. I bought this for myself.” She took an unladylike swig.

Valko ignored her, feeling a little bewildered. He walked towards the stairs.

“Wait.” Triss produced and held out a rather bulky coin purse. “This week’s and last week’s coin. Everything that I owe you.” 

Valko reached for his coin, fully expecting the sorceress to recoil her hand, but she did not. Triss held onto the purse, long enough to allow her delicate fingers to graze Valko’s. Her skin was soft, somewhat tender, against the roughness of his hand. The very same hand that had torn flesh from bone not hours earlier. Their eyes met and their touch lingered, for longer than Valko was comfortable with. He snatched the purse away with haste, under the assumption she was intoxicated.

“Didn’t know you were a drinker.” 

Triss gave a wistful laugh. 

“I never used to drink excessively like this. Only at court balls. A leisurely glass of wine in the evenings to wind down after a day filled with politics. Now, it helps to ease the suffering I suppose.”

“Someone like you has no idea what real suffering is.” Valko scoffed.

“Someone like me? You mean a sorceress or-”

“A sorceress. Specifically one who’s lived in the lap of luxury.”

Triss refused to rise to his scorn, not wanting a repeat incident. The pieces of his previous outburst lay shattered on the floor behind her. Instead, she tried a more sympathetic approach.

“Is that why you drink so much? To ease your suffering?”

“I drink to forget.”

“Does it help?”

“Mind your business sorceress, and I’ll mind mine.” Valko snapped.

He attempted to take the stairs a second time, eager to remove himself from the sorceress’s company.

“I thought we were having a moment here.” Triss muttered, slipping back into her solemn mood. “You’ve barely acknowledged me during the two weeks I’ve been here. Unless you want to count yelling at someone and destroying furniture as acknowledgment.” 

“I told you the day we met; I don’t want you here. I’m not looking to make friends. If you don’t like it then get the fuck out and go back to where you came from.” 

“You know very well that I can’t go _anywhere_ without putting my life at risk.” Triss said matter-of-factly. “Look I’m not asking to be friends, but that doesn’t mean you have to ignore me all the time. I simply want to converse without getting growled at and without the fear that you’ll go berserk again.”

Valko’s response was no less than she had described. A growl and a sharp turn of the head to avoid eye contact. 

Triss sighed.

“If I didn’t know better I’d say you have a grudge against me. Your attitude certainly displays it.” She gingerly sipped from her bottle. “But that can’t be possible because you don’t know me, you don’t know anything about me. How could you when you won’t talk to me like a normal person?” 

“Conversing is something friends do. Go talk to someone else.” Valko’s response was sulky and rather childish.

“Who else do I have to talk to?” Triss said in jest, her question clearly rhetorical. “The other mages want my help, not to listen to my woes. And from what I can see you don’t have anyone to talk to either.”

“The reason I lived alone was because I DON’T want to talk to anyone.” 

“You must really hate people.” 

“What gave it away?” 

“ _Sorceresses_ in particular.” Triss furthered her remark and ignored his sarcasm. “The majority of the city hate us too, hence why they’re torturing and burning us alive.”

She was pushing Valko to talk. Perhaps she was trying to get him to retaliate, or maybe it was the booze talking. 

“I’ve encountered enough sorceresses to know that they can’t be trusted.” Valko felt a sting in his chest and a sudden impulse to say more than was necessary. “They’re arrogant, selfish and cruel. Always scheming, always harbouring ulterior motives. Destroying people’s lives without a second thought, just to get what they want!” 

Now he was angry. Angry at his own candor. Those piercing, inhuman eyes that were always so full of rage had unwillingly revealed another emotion. Sorrow. The scorn in his voice was not directed at Triss personally. She realised this now and let the silence linger as she chose her next words. 

“I’m sorry you feel that way.” She stood up and offered him the bottle she’d been holding. “I want you to know how grateful I am. I know you’re risking a lot by sheltering me...For someone who hates mages so much it is very generous of you to allow me to hide here.” 

Valko hesitantly took the bottle and Triss gave him a modest smile in return. He acknowledged her with a gentle and respectful nod; the first of its kind. Now on his third attempt, he ascended the stairs to his room.

The cold, emptiness of his bedroom was suddenly more apparent. Valko slammed the bottle down on his desk and yanked out the drawer, revealing a hoard of silver medallions. Medallions belonging to the witcher schools of the cat, bear, griffin and viper. 

In a temper, Valko dug through the medallions. The silver repeatedly burned his skin. At the bottom of the drawer he found two gold rings. One, large, that fitted his finger perfectly. The other, a great deal smaller. He sat on his bed, cradling the smaller ring in his hand. The sight of it had settled his state of unrest. But he was none the wiser to whether it was the remnants of the full moon or his encounter with Triss that had riled his emotions.


	6. The Contract

“Now, you’ll need to take a single drop of this, twice a day. Once when you wake and once before you sleep.” Triss handed a small vial of brightly coloured liquid to her elderly patron. “Any more than that and it will do you more harm than good. Do you understand?”

The old woman, who was sat facing Triss, rested her pale and bony hands in her lap.

“Are you sure this tiny thing will help?” She looked sceptically, through aged eyes, at the vial.

“Yes. Assuming you take the correct dosage as instructed.” Triss replied.

After a hard stare, the old woman took the vial into her shaky hands; satisfied with the sorceress’s confidence.

“They say you mages are a bad sort, but it just goes to show you can’t trust every piece of idle gossip you hear. Thank you so much my dear.” Her voice was sincere, as she handed over a small coin purse in return.

The old woman coughed, then rose from her seat. The wooden chair creaked, as did her bones.

The young sorceress Ophelia, who was sat beside Triss, shuddered at the sound the old woman’s joints made. And how frail her withered body appeared. She did not envy the aging process of average humans.

The two sorceresses gave a parting smile to the elderly woman as she left the room. 

“Another satisfied customer. I’m almost certain that she won’t report us to the witch hunters.” Ophelia half-joked as she turned her smile to Triss. “Where did you learn all of this, Miss Merigold? You can whip up these potions with such ease, just by hearing the symptoms of illnesses.”

“I’ve told you before Ophelia, just call me Triss. As for where I learned to make magical potions, at Aretuza of course. Potions and healing were my main studies.”

True to her words, Triss had become a successful sorceress during her time at the magical academy Aretuza. She learned the crafting of magical potions, specifically ones that healed sickness and disease. Ironically, she was allergic to said potions. Her talents for healing had always been extremely useful, now more than ever.

The mages in hiding had opened several secret clinics around the city. These mage clinics, although a risky business, were absolutely essential to their continued survival. Treating the sick and wounded; those who could not be healed by non-magical methods. Or those who could not afford to go elsewhere. People generally feared dying of terrible diseases more than they feared the witch hunters. In return for their magical healing and aid, the fugitive mages of Novigrad were paid coin and could rest assured they would not be sold out to the Temple Guard. 

“Aretuza…I honestly do not know how I made it out of there alive.” Ophelia gave a sigh, recalling her time at the academy. “Whenever people think of a sorceress, they imagine a powerful, self-confident, self-assured woman. _Those_ are the type of women who leave Aretuza. But that simply isn’t me.”

“Confidence takes time to build. For those of us gifted with an aptitude for magic, it takes even longer. Very few are lucky enough to be born with confidence. I certainly wasn’t. Confidence grows with experience. You need to give yourself time. You are a gifted mage Ophelia.” Triss reassured her.

“That is kind of you to say...it just worries me Miss Meri- _Triss_. When I think of all the mages who have been killed recently. They were so much more powerful than I am…” Ophelia said shakily. “Another was killed yesterday, and today I heard that the witch hunters are bolstering their ranks. I don’t stand a chance against them.”

“Frederik.” Triss said, standing up. 

“Oh my…You know him?”

“I _knew_ him. I helped get him to safety when he arrived in Novigrad, much liked I helped you.” 

“I see…I’m so sorry Triss. I never would have brought it up if I’d had known.” Ophelia said with regret. 

Triss slowly paced the small room in thought. 

“We weren’t close, but it makes me sad regardless. Sad _and_ angry. He was a fine young man; polite and well spoken. An even finer mage. He had a promising future ahead of him. It’s such a waste of life.”

Guilt weighed heavy on Triss. To hear about the killings of mages was terrible. It was worse for her, as she had known many of them. She had met them, spoken with them, shaken hands, promised them safety. Each time a mage was killed she silently blamed herself and wished that there was more she could have done to help. 

“On a positive note…we’re seeing a lot more coin now that this clinic is open. It will certainly help us to reach our goal and leave Novigrad for good.” Ophelia said, changing the subject. “I am truly honoured to be a part of it. Not only are we helping ourselves but also the less fortunate.”

Triss forced a smile. 

“Shame that most of the coin we earn is going straight to Bedlam. I barely see any of it myself. Especially now that I have a host.”

“Oh yes! Your mysterious host. Valko, was it?” Ophelia suddenly gained a mischievous glint in her eyes. “Tell me Triss. Is he tall, dark and handsome?”

Triss’ expression failed to show amusement. 

“Ha. More like tall, dark and terrifying. Tall like a giant, dark like a shadow, terrifying like a fiend.” 

“Oh, come now, he can’t be that bad!”

“He’s a thug, Ophelia, and a brute.” 

“A little rough around the edges then. Is he at least a handsome brute?”

The younger sorceress giggled and Triss rolled her eyes at her childishness. However, the question did give her pause for thought. She stopped pacing in the middle of the room and crossed her arms. 

Valko was a brute, of this there was no doubt. But was he handsome? More importantly, did _she_ find him handsome? She pondered over him. His towering height. His solid build. His dark hair and icy blue eyes. If only she could overlook his foul temper and bad attitude. Perhaps, also, if he were to smile once in a while. 

“I suppose...he is quite handsome.” Triss admitted reluctantly. “In a rugged sort of way.” 

She walked forward and picked up the coin purse from the table next to Ophelia. 

“I thought as much.” Ophelia beamed. 

“Not that it matters. The man hates my guts. He’s made that fact _very_ clear.” Triss said, while opening the coin purse and peering inside. 

“Hate is a strong word to use…I’m sure he doesn’t hate you.”

“Believe me Ophelia, the word isn’t strong enough. He _despises_ sorceresses. You should have heard the way he spoke about us the other night. The man has a deep-seated hatred for us that rivals that of the witch hunters.”

“If that’s so, why on Earth did he agree to be your host?”

Triss shrugged and began to count out the coin from the purse. 

“Probably for easy coin, like everyone else. Every man has his price, like they say.” 

Ophelia shifted in her seat. Her concern was evident. 

“You don’t think he’d turn you in to the witch hunters, do you?” 

“Not if I keep paying him.” Triss remarked.

Her words did nothing to comfort Ophelia who was now perched anxiously on the edge of her chair.

Triss thought back to the other night. The way Valko had looked at her as she sat by the fire. True, she had been intoxicated at the time, but she could have sworn to have seen something different in his eyes. Beyond all the rage and hatred, there was something more. Something of a gentler nature. No matter how brief the feeling may have been, it had existed in that moment. She was sure of it. 

“Don’t look so worried Ophelia. Honestly, no. I don’t think he will turn me in.”

Triss gave the young sorceress a reassuring smile and dropped the coin purse in her hands.

“Enough about him. Have you and Feliks found yourself a host?”

“Oh, um…no…we’re still living in the Grove…” Ophelia went silent momentarily. “Feliks won’t allow us to live with a host.”

Triss raised her eyebrows, waiting for the younger sorceress to explain.

“Feliks said he doesn’t want to risk putting our lives in the hands of others. He also doesn’t want to leave me alone in a house with strangers, while he goes out to earn coin.”

“My, he’s awfully protective of you, isn’t he?”

Ophelia smiled and nodded meekly.

_Overly protective_. Triss thought. That isn’t always a good thing. 

“How did the two of you meet?”

“Quite a remarkable story, although, I’m not entirely sure you’ll believe it.” Ophelia said. 

“We certainly have time and I’d love to hear it. A story about a loving couple, with a happy ending. Goodness knows I’d like to hear something happy for a change.” Triss moved a chair and sat directly opposite Ophelia. “I doubt we will get any more patrons to the clinic this late in the evening.”

“I suppose you’re right. I’ll tell you the shortened version, or else I could talk about it all the way until tomorrow’s dawn. It started directly after Loc Muinne-”

“The Summit at Loc Muinne? You were there?” Triss cut in, somewhat surprised. 

The Summit; arguably the beginning of the more severe persecutions towards mages, and Radovid’s witch hunters. Also, the beginning of the end of Triss’ relationship with Geralt. 

“Yes, I was there. Unfortunately. I witnessed everything. The dragon attack, the massacre that followed. When the knights began to attack mages, me and two others fled. I couldn’t fight if my life depended on it, and at that moment it literally did.” Ophelia shuddered. “The very first time I met Feliks; he held a blade to my throat.” 

“How…romantic?” Triss said, unsure of how else to respond. 

Ophelia held her hand to her mouth as she chuckled.

“Feliks was a bandit you see. He attacked me along the road while I was fleeing. At the time I had nothing but the clothes on my back; no gold or treasure to offer him. Thankfully, he decided to let me live. Fate would have it that later our paths crossed again. Except this time, I found him lying injured in a ditch on the side of the road. The band of cutthroats he ran with had turned on him. They beat him within an inch of his life and left him for dead.” 

“And you saved him.” Triss concluded. 

“I did. It was so strange. This man had threatened my life and hurt me, yet I felt nothing but pity for him. I tended to his wounds and nursed him back to health at a local tavern. While there he pledged his loyalty to me, and his love. He promised to stay at my side, forever.” 

“You’re a kind woman Ophelia. Perhaps too kind.” Triss said honestly. 

“I know you must think me crazy. Feliks is a good man, a changed man. I believe he has atoned for the sins of his past simply by choosing to stay at my side. He does honest work now and has been earning a steady income of coin since the day we arrived in this city. Even while we hid in the sewers, he kept me fed and safe.”

“Love truly works in mysterious ways.” Triss said with obvious scepticism. “I’m happy for the both of you.  
You’re lucky to have someone reliable in such challenging times.” 

“I am very lucky to have him.” Ophelia said humbly. “What about you Triss? Is there anyone special in your life?”

Triss stared vacantly at the young sorceress.

“I’m sorry. That wasn’t my place to ask.” Ophelia quickly apologized. 

Triss remained silent for some time. The sad truth was, at this point in time, she had no one special. All that remained from her previous love affair were lingering affections for someone who was no longer in her life.

“There was someone I had grown very close to. He was a witcher, of all things. Geralt of Rivia.” Triss’ voice almost cracked saying his name out loud. 

“The White Wolf…I saw the two of you together at Loc Muinne. Before chaos ensued.” Ophelia added carefully.

“That was the last time we were together. It simply wasn’t meant to be. He was in love with someone else. We went our separate ways, ironically around the same time you met Feliks. Afterwards I came to Novigrad for a fresh start, to move on with my life and put the past behind me. It hasn’t exactly gone as planned.”

“Me and Feliks came here for the same reason. We wanted to start a life together.” Ophelia said sadly. 

Triss sighed. Part of her still wished that she could have started a life together with Geralt. Such a life would be impossible to accomplish now. 

“We’ll get our fresh start for real when we make it to Kovir. The sooner we can leave all this behind the better.” Triss said with a little more positivity.

There was a sudden knock on the front door to the clinic. The door opened without waiting for a reply and a man’s head appeared. A grubby, stubbled face that was missing one eye. It was one of The King of Beggar’s thugs.

“Hello ladies. You two all alone? Any customers in here?” The man asked. 

“No. What do you want?” Triss said, her tone uninviting.

“Got something you might want to hear Miss Merigold. Something that involves a lot of coin that could go towards your _noble cause_.”

Triss, although slightly irritated, gestured for the man to enter. The thug eagerly entered the room, closed the door behind him and swaggered towards the sorceresses.

“Let’s hear it then.” 

“There’s a contract been set by the Temple Guard this morning. The town’s folk are all a buzz about it. 1000 crowns is the promised payment.” The thug explained. 

Triss’ eyes widened at the mention of such a large sum. She glanced at Ophelia who looked back with a mirrored expression.

Such a considerable amount of coin would be an immense help for arranging safe passage out of Novigrad. That fresh start in Kovir suddenly seemed a little bit closer. 

“That’s an awful lot of coin. What are the details for this contract?” Triss asked, showing greater interest in what the man had to say.

“Apparently there’s a monster prowling the forest near Farcorners…” The thug began, as his eyes studied the two women in front of him. “Mutilated bodies have been turning up for weeks. Few days ago six more bodies were found. Armed men, farmers from Far Corners, slaughtered like lambs.”

“That’s terrible…” Ophelia covered her mouth.

“So, the contract is to put an end to whatever has caused the deaths of these people. You’re sure it’s a monster? What kind of monster?” Triss pressed for more information. 

The man gave a shrug.

“Ain’t got a clue. That’s just what people been saying around town. King of Beggars thought you’d want to hear about it. Reckon it’d be easy for a sorceress to deal with the beast.”

“How kind of him.” Triss said with sarcasm.

The thug grinned silently. It was all too obvious that he was expecting something in return for this knowledge. His continuous staring was making both Triss and Ophelia feel uncomfortable. 

“If that’s all, you can leave.” Triss said firmly, pointing to the door. 

The thug, although visually disappointed, left the room promptly at the sorceress’s order. After he had left, Triss got up and locked the door, so that they would not be disturbed again. She grimaced at the horrendous smell the man had left behind. 

“1000 crowns is an awful lot of money…” Triss thought out loud, moving away from the door.

“Triss, I don’t like this. It sounds awfully dangerous. Are you honestly thinking about looking into it?” Ophelia looked troubled. “A monster? One that’s been massacring people…1000 crowns is a lot of coin, but is it really worth risking your life for?”

“I don’t usually take these sorts of contracts. They’re more suited to…” Triss’ voice trailed off. “But I’m already risking my life just being here in this city. The very least I can do is ask some of the locals around Farcorners. See if they know something or have seen anything. Maybe I’ll be able to find a lead.” 

It wasn’t simply the danger that concerned Triss. The main problem was that the Temple Guard had put out the bounty. They very same people who happened to want to put all mages on the pyre. Even if she did some how manage to find and stop the culprit, there was no way she would be able to collect the bounty herself. 

“It would certainly be helpful to have a witcher around at a time like this.” Ophelia said without thinking. 

_Specifically, one with white hair_. Triss thought to herself.


	7. Fair Deal

Early morning in Hierarch Square, the town crier had announced the discovery of four bodies within the city. They had been left in plain sight, torn to pieces and mutilated beyond recognition. The culprit was believed to be the very same one who had been killing in Farcorners and the surrounding forest area. The murderer, be it man or monster, was on the move. Their hunting ground was expanding. Novigrad’s city walls were no longer offering the protection they were supposed to. 

With no leads, no real evidence and no one to suspect, it was only natural for the witch hunters and temple guard to set the blame on the mages. If with no other intention than to give people another reason to fear and resent them. 

After hearing the announcement, Triss had begun to investigate as best she could under the current circumstances. Rumours were circulating that the bounty of 1000 crowns was set to rise. This was a great motivation for her.

“It was a beast I tell you! A monster!” The beggar cried; his breath was tainted with the scent of alcohol. 

“Yes, I’m aware it was a monster but what _kind_ of monster?” Triss asked, keeping her distance. 

“An enormous one!! Big as a house and black as night! Blood dripping from its mouth!”

This was the 5th supposed ‘eyewitness’ Triss had spoken to this morning. All of which had offered vague and unhelpful information regarding the most recent killings. Her patience, no matter how great, was being tested.

Triss needed to get outside of the city walls. To Farcorners and the forest where the first bodies had been found. Many non-humans lived in Farcorners. They may have been unwilling to offer up information to the temple guard, but perhaps she could persuade them to aid her. This was her hope. 

Hours later, in her bedroom, Triss was jotting down notes in her book. When she read through them, it left her disheartened. During her investigation and inquiries so far, she had learned very little of use. Even after visiting the locations that the four bodies had been found. She was unable to investigate the scenes thoroughly. Instead, she had to stand amongst the crowds of people who had gathered there and speculate from a distance. Two of the bodies were isolated, the other two had been killed several feet away from each other. 

Adding this to the information she had learned about the murders of weeks prior, her conclusion was that nothing about these killings made any sense.

The victims had little in common and appeared to have been chosen at random. Many had not been identified due to the state their bodies were found in. Sometimes it was a single murder, sometimes a group. So, the culprit was easily able to overpower multiple men.

The murders always happened at night and the assailant had made no effort to conceal the bodies. Nor conceal themselves, as there had been eyewitnesses to some of the attacks. The sheer carnage left behind; it had to be a monster. But then, a monster would kill for only two logical reasons. For food or to protect their territory. The bodies had not been eaten and the location of the murders were changing. 

Triss sighed from frustration. She promptly closed her notebook and placed it on her bedside table next to a coin purse. She was no monster hunter. If Geralt were here, he’d be able to track the monster down in a heartbeat. He’d help her, freely. She’d get the coin she needed, and all would be well.

But Geralt wasn’t here and likely never would be again. She had to stop thinking about him. She didn’t need him. She could do this _without_ his help. She had other people she could rely on. Such as… 

Triss stared at the hefty coin purse, full to the brim. It was the coin she owed Valko for this week and next. She hadn’t seen him much lately and so hadn’t the chance to hand it over. The air of tension between them seemed to have died down, but even so. Were they on good enough terms for her to ask for his help? He’d likely turn her down. Although perhaps the promise of such a large reward would tempt him. 

Triss had once thought he was driven by coin, but she’d never seen him use it to buy anything of great value. He didn’t hoard it away or guard it fiercely like many greedy men would do. All he seemed to spend it on was food, alcohol and the general upkeep of his home. 

The man was still a mystery to her. What drove him? Moved him? If anything at all. 

Triss stood up from her bed, fastened her cloak around her neck and pulled up her hood. She’d made her decision. 

At this hour, Valko could be anywhere. There was, however, a place nearby she could check where he could possibly be found.

\----

Triss struggled to pass through the front door of the Golden Sturgeon. An inebriated crowd of onlookers barred the way. They roared with drunken enthusiasm at the spectacle playing out in the centre of the tavern. The focus of attention was none other than the man she was looking for.

Valko stalked around his opponent like a predator circling wounded prey. He dodged his opponent’s desperate swings with surprising agility. Then, downed the man with a single well aimed fist to the face.

Triss winced at the sound of cracking bone, then the man hit the floor with a loud thud. The crowd cheered; ale and tankards were thrown into the air in celebration.

Valko stood over his defeated foe, fists clenched and chest heaving. He wore no smile nor smug expression of victory. A young woman pushed her way through the mob, skipping to his side and linking her arm through his. 

“My hero!” The barmaid beamed up at him with excitement. “Seems chivalry isn’t dead after all.” 

“Get off me woman!” Valko immediately jerked his arm away. “Don’t flatter yourself. I didn’t do that for you. The bastard knocked my drink over.” 

The man writhed around on the ground, with hands held over his nose and mouth. 

“You...you broke my ploughin’ nose!” His yell was muffled by his fingers.

“I’ll break your fucking neck too if you don’t shut your gob.”

Valko then turned his hostility to the people still gathered around him, threatening to lunge at them next.

“What’re you all staring at?! Fuck off! The lot of you! Unless anyone else wants to test my patience and strength.”

The crowed rapidly dispersed, whispering amongst themselves. Not daring to make eye contact with the man. In the end, only one hooded woman was left as his audience. 

“Valko.” 

“What the fuck are you doing in here?” Valko asked as Triss approached him. 

He was both surprised and annoyed to see her in such a public place. Not that anyone here would be sober enough to recognise who she was. 

“I need to talk to you. It’s important.”

“Whatever it is could surely have waited till I got back.”

“When you got back, drunk, you mean. How am I supposed to have a serious conversation with a drunkard?” Triss argued.

She’d already had enough conversations with drunks today. 

“Piss off. I don’t need to listen to this shit. I’m here to drink and relax.”

Triss glanced at the man who was still crawling around on the floor, with a bloodied nose and broken pride.

“And _this_ is how you relax?” She asked sarcastically. 

Valko took it as mockery. He snorted and turned his back on the sorceress. 

“Wait. Please. I wanted to see you.” Triss blurted out.

This stopped the man dead in his tracks.

“I mean I haven’t seen you for a few days. I thought it best to seek you out. I also have the coin for this week.”

Valko turned to face Triss, his expression was unreadable. 

“I’m not bothered about the coin. If that’s all this is about then you can go. Leave me to drink.” He said, his voice a little softer. 

“No, it isn’t just about the coin. There’s something else. Something I need to ask you. Preferably in private.” 

Valko considered Triss’ request in a moment of silence. Her expression was that of desperation. Whether it was curiosity or a brief act of courtesy, Valko gestured with his head to the back room of the tavern; offering to listen to what the sorceress had to say. 

\----

“Valko.” 

“No.”

“Please.”

“I said, NO.”

“The bounty is 1000 crowns, likely set to rise, and I’m willing to split it with you. Equally. I don't see the issue here. Doesn’t it sound like a fair deal to you?” Triss offered, in hope it would persuade him.

Unimpressed, Valko didn’t reply. 

“Some kind of monster has been attacking people in that forest. Now it’s happening in the city as well. I need to get out, beyond the city walls. I want to ask around the residents of Farcorners. Search the forest for clues. Somebody must know something.”

Despite his agitated pacing, Valko was listening intently to the sorceress.

“I can’t get out of the city without being stopped and questioned. There are too many new security measures. Temple guards and witch hunters stationed at every exit. I’d be exposed, without a doubt. But if you could-” 

“You’re wasting your time sorceress.” Valko interrupted. “There’s nothing in that forest. Just wolves.”

“And how could you possibly know that?” 

“The forest. I go there often. I’ve never been attacked by any _monster_.”

“You go into that forest? Why?” Triss asked suspiciously.

“To get the hell away from you for one thing.” Valko snapped harshly. “It’s not enough for you to bother me in my own home, now you even harass me when I’m out and trying to unwind!”

Triss lowered her head and removed her hood to reveal her face. Even in the dull light of the tavern, her beauty radiated.

“I wouldn’t have bothered you at all if this weren’t important to me. I need this coin. Not only for my own future but for the futures of all mages trapped in Novigrad. I’m asking for your help, Valko.” 

Triss searched his eyes for compassion. He could not hold her gaze for long.

“I go to the forest because it’s peaceful out there. Quiet. When the city gets too much, that’s where I return to. It calms me.” Valko admitted, in a passive tone. 

“It calms you..." Triss whispered thoughtfully.

His honesty satisfied her, but also brought more questions to mind. 

"Do you go there every night? To the forest? You’ve seen nothing suspicious? What about bodies? Or maybe traces of blood?” 

“Damn it woman, you ask too many questions! It’s making my head hurt.” Valko reached for a bottle from a nearby shelf. “And making me thirsty.”

“Considering you claim to know the forest so well, that’s even more of a reason for you to come with me.” Triss suggested.

Valko was again unresponsive. He popped open the bottle and took a swig. 

“How do you usually get out of the city?” Triss enquired. 

“Depends. Do I feel like being questioned by the temple guard or not? That never tends to end well for them.” Valko clenched and unclenched his fist. 

“Last thing I need is for you to beat up or kill members of the temple guard in broad daylight…I don’t want to attract any unnecessary attention.” 

Valko frowned. 

“Fuck sake. Fine. We’ll do it your way. There’s a breech in the wall, south of the city. Close to the portside gate. You’ll have to get your feet wet but it’s the only way to get in and out of the city without being seen.” 

Triss’ eyes lit up with excitement.

“Valko, that sounds perfect! Does this mean you agree to help me?” 

Valko said nothing. Triss took his silence for agreement. It was as close to a ‘yes’ as she was going to get from him. 

“We’ll set out tomorrow morning. The sooner the better.”

Valko gave her a single nod.

The sorceress’s smile was more than enough to display how pleased she was. 

“Despite the real reason we’re going…it’ll be nice to get out of the city for a while.” She said quietly. 

Valko grunted and began to walk away, bottle still in hand. 

“There is one last thing.” Triss said, to stop him. 

“Pushing your luck sorceress. What else do you want from me?”

“Thank you.” Triss placed her hand on his arm. “If we can find the killer. If we can claim this bounty. It will mean a great deal to me.”

Valko removed her hand, almost as gently as she had laid it upon him.

“Don’t thank me yet.”


End file.
